A knock falls on my door. I abruptly regret sending all three of my human Bonded away – I’m currently in the bath, enjoying it after days on the road. Flesh-Shaping keeps me clean, but isn’t anywhere near as pleasant as a good soak.

  I didn’t even have a bath when I levelled up – I didn't want to poison the water supply for some hapless village down-river. Fortunately for me, a combination of Flesh-Shaping and Water-Shaping worked well enough as a shower. But it’s not the same as a lovely warm bath.

  Lathani, do you mind getting the door? I ask the telepathic nunda – she’s around, at least.

  Sure, she chirps, and there’s silence for a few moments. It's a human. They have a message for you from the other Tamer.

  Can you bring them to the bathroom door and ask them to shout through it, please? I ask her.

  A few moments later, a voice calls tentatively through the door.

  “Lord Markus?”

  “I’m here,” I reply, raising my voice a bit louder than normal. “What’s the message?”

  “Lord Nicholas asks you to attend him in his study within the next half a mark. He requests that you wear court-suitable garments.”

  Court-suitable garments?

  “Alright, thanks,” I say to the messenger, not voicing my other thoughts. “I’ll be with him as soon as possible.”

  “Would you like me to pass on any message to Lord Nicholas on my return?”

  “No, it’s fine,” I dismiss and, after a farewell, the servant departs. I sigh. So much for a nice long soak before dinner. Then again, he did want to meet up to discuss the conversations we’re supposed to have. But then why do I need to be all dressed up?

  Getting out and dressed doesn’t take too long, and it’s closer to twenty minutes than thirty by the time I step into Nicholas’ study.

  “I thought we were speaking to the lords tonight?” I ask in lieu of a greeting. He sends me a slightly sardonic look but doesn’t pick me up on the lack of etiquette – we’ve spent enough time together now that he won’t take it as a slight. He also recognises that I actually know how to behave and am just choosing not to.

  “That was my intention, but Maxence told Sarran that he is occupied tonight and set this period as the only time he’ll be available today.” There’s a slightly sarcastic note to his voice.

  “You don’t think he was being completely honest.”

  “Maxence doesn’t enjoy being at my beck and call,” Nicholas comments. It seems irrelevant, but I understand passive aggressiveness as well as anyone else. I feel a sudden pang of sympathy for Maxence Forestheart.

  “So where is this mirror, then?” I ask, looking around. It can’t be the same one that we used to communicate with the guard captain when we were in the palace – the background behind him had been a different room.

  “Here,” Nicholas answers while pressing a carven sigil on his desk. A tapestry hanging on the wall opposite the door starts rolling up and a large mirror is revealed to be behind it. Nicholas moves over and shifts two of the chairs so they face it rather than the fire. It reminds me rather amusingly of someone preparing for a video conference meeting. I almost expect Nicholas to start checking the audio equipment or changing the lighting next, but he just sits down in one of the seats. When I don’t immediately follow, he sends me an impatient glance. “They’ll connect in a flame.”

  “How does it work?” I ask curiously as I move over to take my place. Nicholas holds up a crystalline orb. It’s opaque and covered in runes.

  “With this,” Nicholas answers. “An expensive piece of equipment,” he adds with a hint of distaste, “and still relatively new. But it’s convenient enough that few nobles who can afford it don’t have one now.”

  “Why didn’t the King use this to summon you rather than that metallic bird, then?” I ask with a slight furrow to my brow. Nicholas looks at me as if I’ve asked an immensely dumb question. “Because it’s not impressive enough?” I guess with a sigh.

  “Nor is it traditional,” he agrees. The orb starts glowing. “Ah, here they are.”

  Nicholas taps one of the runes and looks towards the mirror. I follow his gaze to see that a shifting whirl of colour has appeared in the centre of it. The swirl grows until it covers the whole surface of the mirror. It’s only then that the colours solidify and separate properly to form two familiar figures. The picture is distinct and sharp, almost as if we’re looking through a glass pane to a room beyond.

  In a position eerily similar to our own, Lord Maxence Forestheart is sitting in a chair with his heir sitting in another to his side. The lord’s expression is the picture of attentive courtesy, but there’s a tightness around his eyes. Beside him, Elarion mirrors his father’s composure, though I can glimpse the quiet calculation behind his stillness.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Nicholas,” Maxence starts the conversation. The audio is crystal clear – he could have been in the same room for all the interference that’s present. Far better than any video-conference I’ve been part of. “You look in rather better health than I was expecting. Given the urgent nature of this summons, I was expecting the worst.” His tone might have been talking about the weather for all the emotion that’s in it.

  “I appreciate your concern, Maxence,” Nicholas replies with a thin smile. “If my health takes a turn for the worst, I’m sure you will be the first to know. The subject of this meeting is another topic entirely: the Lost Continent.”

  “Ah.” Maxence’s eyes narrow fractionally. “I see we are dispensing with all of the formalities.”

  “Considering everything, I deemed them unnecessary. Do you disagree?” Nicholas’ words are light, but surprisingly poisonous.

  Why are you needling him like that? I ask silently.

  He doesn’t reply or betray by even a twitch that he heard me. Instead, his eyes are locked with those of the Forestheart lord. I suddenly wonder whether their Bond also feels like they’re only a room away or whether it is unaided by the magic of the mirrors.

  The tension builds. I flick my own eyes to look at Elarion – there’s a tightness to the corner of his eyes as he gazes at something that’s probably on the wall to the side of their own mirror.

  “If it will make this meeting shorter, then I’m all for it,” Maxence replies finally, breaking the eye contact. “As I told your man, I am occupied this evening and would like to return to preparing for it.” There’s a hint of sulkiness to his voice. Irritation at his loss?

  “Of course. I will endeavour to make this as short as possible,” Nicholas replies politely. In contrast, having won that battle of wills, he is more relaxed than before. “In short, I’ve decided that it would do our…alliance good for Elarion to accompany Markus to the Lost Continent.”

  Wait, what? I send to Nicholas with annoyance – he doesn’t respond. I was expecting Nicholas to ask Elarion – or at least his father – to come. Not demand it like this.

  There’s a pause. Not long – Maxence is far too controlled to let it stretch – but it’s long enough to demonstrate his annoyance.

  “How generous of you to make such a decision on my behalf,” Maxence says mildly. “One might almost mistake it for a royal decree.”

  Nicholas’s smile is utterly polite.

  “Hardly. Merely the next natural step for two Houses bound together in loyalty and trust, don’t you think, Maxence?”

  The silence that follows hums like a plucked string. I glance at Elarion – he’s very still, his expression unreadable, but the faint tension around his eyes remains.

  “My lord,” Maxence says finally, “to have my heir invited to join yours on such a historical expedition, how can I refuse? Elarion is… capable. And as you say, the bonds between our Houses are strong. Great opportunities lie in the Lost Continent. We must look to the future as well as the present.”

  “Precisely.” Nicholas inclines his head slightly. “And the rewards for loyalty are great.” I don’t think I’m imagining the silent ‘as are the consequences for disloyalty’ that seems to follow.

  Maxence’s eyes narrow the slightest bit, though his tone remains civil. “My heir is fully aware of where his loyalty is owed.”

  Nicholas chuckles, low and entirely without warmth.

  “Indeed. I’m sure my heir will be delighted to see him prove it.”

  Once more, the two lock eyes. I’m almost surprised that frost doesn’t start spreading across the mirror between us – the temperature of the room seems to have chilled that far.

  At last, Nicholas leans back slightly, signaling the end of the exchange, but this time with no clear winner or loser. “Then it’s settled. Elarion will join my heir’s expedition. A ship waits for him at Whalehost. Markus is arranging for the crew, but your heir will need to bring along a company of soldiers, and whichever craftsmen he deems appropriate for building his own accommodation on the other continent. I trust he’ll do House Forestheart proud.”

  “I trust he’ll do House Titanbend proud,” Maxence counters smoothly. “It seems you have more invested in his success than I.”

  Nicholas’s lips curve faintly. “We both have an interest in seeing him return alive. Let’s begin there.”

  Maxence inclines his head, perfectly controlled. “Of course, my lord.”

  The conversation winds down with words of courtesy – meaningless on the surface but with the same razors beneath that have characterised the rest of the conversation. When the Foresthearts finally stand to nod in farewell, I rise too, relieved to move. My movement doesn’t go unnoticed – not when Nicholas remains seated.

  Maxence’s own look as it flashes over me is unreadable, but Elarion meets my eyes briefly. He’s calm on the surface, but I can sense the turmoil beneath it. I try to tell him with my own eyes that I don’t blame him for it – I have my own issues with Nicholas’ high-handedness, and this is actually to benefit me. Elarion’s eyes flicker slightly, a hint of confusion entering them.

  And then the mirror swirls into indistinct colours again and they’re gone. Nicholas waits for the mirror to return to showing our own reflections before he speaks.

  “Hm. That went about as well as could be expected,” he murmurs. I blink and twist my head to look at him.

  “You call that well?”

  He glances at me, one eyebrow lifting.

  “Maxence will send his son. That was the goal.”

  “After being cornered into it,” I mutter.

  Nicholas gazes me coolly for a long moment.

  “Every lord is a predator, Markus, and the Great Houses are those at the apex. I have a leash on a yelna; if I relax, he will eat me. He tests our Bond on a regular basis, trying to see how far he can pull before I will bring him to heel. Power doesn’t ask permission, but demands obedience. And so must I, or lose it.”

  I look towards the mirror, imagining what might be being said on the other side of the connection, half a continent away.

  “It doesn’t seem like your methods earn you any true loyalty from him. Or companionship,” I point out, considering how lonely Nicholas’ definition of power must make him – and how it plays into the rumours of our family.

  Nicholas gestures impatiently.

  “I need it not. The Bond is all that’s necessary for one such as him. Attempting to earn loyalty will just end up with me bitten when I let down my guard.” He eyes me coolly. “I know, because I would be the same.”

  I watch as Nicholas stands up and heads for his desk. Pressing the button again, the tapestry draws down over the mirror once more. “Remember this, Markus. In our world, cooperation rarely begins with agreement. It begins with necessity. Where it goes from there depends on many different factors.”

  I huff silently, choosing not to argue, but suddenly feeling a pang of pity at the way these nobles have been conditioned. Perhaps it’s not such a bad thing that Elarion is joining me – maybe I can show him a different way. And perhaps I can prove to Nicholas that there are other forms of cooperation.

  Though after how Nicholas has treated Elarion’s father, I’d better be watching out for a knife in my back until or unless I manage to get through to him that I’m different.

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